


fight for your life (or the will to live)

by caydiink (gayleb)



Category: Minecraft (Video Game), Video Blogging RPF
Genre: Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Angst, Clay | Dream Angst (Video Blogging RPF), Clay | Dream-centric (Video Blogging RPF), Emotional Manipulation, Fights, Forgiveness, Guilt, Hurt/Comfort, Implied/Referenced Child Abuse, Morally Ambiguous Character, Not Beta Read, One Shot, Prison, Suicidal Thoughts, TommyInnit Angst (Video Blogging RPF), TommyInnit-centric (Video Blogging RPF)
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2021-03-03
Updated: 2021-03-03
Packaged: 2021-03-16 13:34:33
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,076
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/29825733
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/gayleb/pseuds/caydiink
Summary: The cell was cold, nothing but the sound of the lava and the never ending ticking of the clock filling the silence.Tommy watched Dream in the corner of the cell, his body curled protectively around the book he was writing in, hand moving frantically across the page as if it would be taken from him before he could finish.That wasn’t a bad idea, now that Tommy thought about it. He would keep it in mind.Tommy and Dream in prison, but their fight goes differently and no one dies
Relationships: Clay | Dream & TommyInnit (Video Blogging RPF)
Comments: 15
Kudos: 393





	fight for your life (or the will to live)

**Author's Note:**

> me?? writing something that isnt totally dream centric??? its more likely than you think!
> 
> aka the newest streams were Something, and i wanted to write something for them but i write what could have happened in an ideal world

The cell was cold, nothing but the sound of the lava and the never ending ticking of the clock filling the silence.

Tommy watched Dream in the corner of the cell, his body curled protectively around the book he was writing in, hand moving frantically across the page as if it would be taken from him before he could finish.

That wasn’t a bad idea, now that Tommy thought about it. He would keep it in mind.

The clock kept ticking, a bubble of lava popping next to where Tommy sat, close enough to feel the heat from the lava, the only shred of warmth in the cell, but far enough to not be burnt.

Tommy grit his teeth, hands gripping his knees as he shut his eyes. The lava was so bright, why was it so _fucking bright?_

The clock ticked, and all Tommy could hear was Dream’s frantic writing, the pen scratching against the paper constantly.

Back and forth, back and forth across the page, black ink staining the pages in words Tommy would probably never read. Words Tommy couldn’t care less about.

He didn’t give a shit about what Dream had to say or write. He had said enough, in Tommy’s opinion. Dream had done enough.

He had done so fucking much, had hurt so many people, so why was he here? Why was Wilbur dead and gone, but Dream still remained? Why was his heart still beating after breaking everyone else's?

Why did Dream get to take what he wanted and expect the world in return? Who gave him the right to take what he pleases and discard what he has no use of, ignoring the ruins of the lives he toys with?

Dream had lost. He was in prison, and he was powerless and helpless and stuck and weak, so, so fucking weak. Dream had _lost._

So why didn’t Tommy feel victorious?

Why was his chest still empty and his heart still broken and his mind still imprisoned to the torments Dream had put it through? 

Why did Tommy still hear Dream’s voice, see his face in his nightmares and feel his touch on his skin late at night beneath the moon?

How is it fair that Dream is the one who ruined everything, yet Tommy is the one who has to live with it? 

The pen scratches against the paper, loud and grating.

Tommy bites town on his tongue, muffling the scream that threatens to break free, months of rage and helplessness and fear and shame churning in his stomach, rising up his throat like bile, warm like blood.

The lava is bright, blinding against Tommy’s eyes as he stares into it.

He barely notices the tears pooling in the corners of his eyes, eyes watching the liquid pouring, unblinking and unseeing.

_(The lava is warm beneath him, calling up to him, inviting him down. A comforting presence._

_It would be so easy. One step forward, one small step and he’d be gone, falling over the edge, too far gone for even Dream to pull him back._

_He could burn in the lava, all of his troubles, all of his woes and grievances and struggles dying with him as his body would sink deeper and deeper beneath the surface, never to be seen again._

_He thinks it would be better that way. Everyone hates him, what’s the point in living if he has no one to live for?_

_“It’s not your time to die Tommy.”_

_He watched the surface of the lava, a warm glow enticing him, drawing him closer and closer to the edge._

_A hand grabs his arm. It isn’t rough, but it’s solid. Grounding._

_Tommy stares at the lava longingly, the warm orange glow reflected in his wide eyes, drowning out the future he had once seen in them._

_He’s pulled back gently away from the edge, tripping over his own feet as he stumbles back, the grip on his arm never wavering, never faltering._

_Dream keeps hold of his arm, never enough to hurt him, but enough to keep him away from the edge and by Dream’s side._

_He looks back at the lava as they walk towards the portal, his eyes dull and face blank as his feet move instinctually, a steady rhythm next to Dream’s silent movement._

_He watched the glow slowly fading as he walked further and further away, something heavy coming to rest on his chest, weighing him down ever so slightly._

_“I know,” he said._

_Tommy knew, but he would never understand.)_

He wasn’t sure how long it had been. _Days,_ at least, maybe even weeks.

Oh god, what if it had been _months?_

Tommy could feel his breathing start to quicken, his chest heaving as he gasped for breath, trying to frantically muffle the sound of his panting beneath his hands.

His eyes widened as the panic set in. _It hadn’t been months. Sam would come for him before that. Sam will come for him. Sam will get him out of this cell, and he can leave it and Dream behind, and forget any of this ever happened-_

“Sam’s gonna get you out,” a voice said, breaking through Tommy’s thoughts.

He blinked, processing the words as he opened his eyes, staring across the cell at Dream.

The man hadn’t moved since Tommy last looked at him. He was still hunched over his book, his head bowed and his hair covering his face. He didn’t even look up at Tommy.

That fucking bitch.

Was Tommy not good enough to even fucking _look at_ now? Was that it?

The sound of a pen scratching against paper hit Tommy’s ears again.

That was _it._

Tommy pushed himself to his feet, stumbling slightly as he felt the blood rush to his legs after hours of sitting in the same spot. He stumbled his way over to Dream, stopping in front of the man now cast in his shadow.

Dream didn’t even look up at Tommy. Didn’t acknowledge him in any way. He just.

Kept.

Writing.

He didn’t get to ignore Tommy. He didn’t get to hurt him, abuse him, and then pretend as if he didn’t exist. Dream didn’t get to run from the pain he had caused. He didn’t get to be a fucking coward.

Tommy tore the book from Dream’s hands, holding it close to his chest, glaring down at the unmasked man.

Dream finally looked up at Tommy, cold blue eyes meeting the dull green and cloudy gray ones beneath him, his expression bored as he looked up at the teen.

Rage filled Tommy’s mind as he looked at the man before him, his scarred face unbothered as he watched Tommy. He should be afraid. He should be terrified. He should look at Tommy and feel the same helplessness that Tommy had felt all those weeks ago.

_(It wasn’t fair that Tommy’s hands still shook as he looked at the man, that fear still gripped his heart like a cage, clawing at his throat from within as he tried to swallow it back._

_Dream should be scared. He should feel helpless and small and so fucking weak, and Tommy should watch him break with glee._

_Tommy should be the one in control now. He should have the power, the confidence, the will to fucking live._

_So why did he feel so fucking small?)_

“Give me my book back Tommy,” Dream said, staring forward, past Tommy, out into the cell behind him, pulling his arms to his chest.

Tommy scoffed, kicking Dream’s leg with his foot lightly. “Yeah, not gonna happen big man,” Tommy said, laughing slightly at Dream’s grunt of discomfort.

“Please, just give me my book back.”

Tommy openly laughed now, kicking him again with a bit more force, enough to shift Dream’s leg a few inches. “The Great Dream is begging now, huh? Pleading for your little book?” he taunted, his voice mocking Dream’s with every word he spoke, “oh I’m a little bitch, please Tommy will you give me my book back?”

Dream kept staring, pulling his knees to his chest as he ignored the teen’s taunts.

His silence only fuelled Tommy further, the anger he had kept in for so long finally bursting forward, overtaking his mind as he finally, _finally_ felt powerful.

He had Dream, _the_ Dream, powerless at his fingertips. For once, he was at Tommy’s mercy.

He felt strong, in a way he hadn’t felt in such a long time.

It felt good.

“Yeah,” he said, smiling grimly at the man who had plagued his nightmares for weeks, “not so high and mighty now, are you bitch? How does it fucking feel, to be the powerless one? How does it _fucking feel?_ ”

Tommy tossed the book to the side, the leather cover skidding across the obsidian floor as he grabbed the front of Dream’s shirt in his hands, pulling him up in front of his face.

“Answer me Dream,” he said, shaking the man as he yelled, “fucking answer me or I swear to god I will find a way to make your miserable life even fucking worse!”

Dream shut his eyes, his breathing speeding up as Tommy shook him, his hands coming up to grab at the teen’s wrists, trying to get the kid to let him go, nails scrabbling at his skin in a desperate attempt to free himself.

Tommy’s eyes filled with rage as he only shook the man harder.

“Answer me!” he shouted, his voice drowning out the popping of the lava and the ticking of the clock. It was only him and Dream in that cell, no god could stand between them now.

Weeks worth of anger and resentment finally boiling over, pouring from the cracks of the broken boy, lashing out in violence as his world came to a crashing halt around him.

He knew, deep down, that this was wrong. That now, in this moment, he was becoming the man he despised so greatly, that he was taking it too far, that this was too much.

But god, it felt so fucking good.

He had been broken and bruised and beaten into submission time and time again. The world knocked him down and pulled him back up, just to watch him break again and again and again. 

Tommy had shattered. He had broken under the weight of the world that was simply too large for one kid, alone in a world that had never welcomed him, surrounded by people he thought he’d known but never truly _knew._

An outcast in a world of people who would never understand him.

He was alone because of Dream. Because no one could understand what he had gone through. No one would know what it had felt like, standing in front of the lava and trying to find a reason not to jump.

No one would understand what it felt like to lose all hope, have it stripped from him piece by piece with every item he had placed in that goddamn pit, blown to pieces before his very eyes.

Dream had taken more than items from him.

He had taken his will, his spirit, hi fucking soul, and torn it to shreds without a second glance.

Tommy had been drowning, alone at sea with his life falling to pieces, no one there to hold him or help him or care for him, grown too fast in a world too cruel.

And Dream had watched him break with a smile on his face and a spring in his step.

Tommy slammed him against the obsidian, a loud crack echoing throughout the cell, Dream’s pained whimpers drowned out by the sound of the lava and the ticking of the clock.

“You don’t get to ignore me,” Tommy cried, tears trailing down his cheeks, making their way through the dirt that coated his skin, “you don’t get to fucking pretend I’m not here, not after everything you’ve done to me.

“Admit it,” he screamed, Dream’s hands weakly clawing at his wrists as he kept his eyes shut, struggling against Tommy’s grip, “fucking admit it! Say you’re a horrible person! I want to hear you fucking say it!”

Dream shook his head frantically, his eyes finally opening in fear as he met Tommy’s manic gaze.

“You have to fucking say it!” Tommy screamed, slamming Dream back against the wall, hands shaking as he tightened his grip.

“I-” Dream said, coughing weakly as his back hit the obsidian, knocking the air from his lungs, “I’m sorry…. Tommy.”

Tommy let out a yell, dropping Dream as he stumbled back, hands scrubbing at his eyes in a frantic attempt to wipe the tears from his face, fingers pulling at his hair as he cried.

“No,” he said, voice broken and chest heaving and limbs trembling beneath the weight he never should have had to carry, “no, you’re not sorry. You can’t just- just say _sorry_ and expect it to be better!”

Dream watched him from the corner, bloody hands clutching his arms close to his chest, curled up as tightly into himself as he could, watching the teen break before him.

“It’s not gonna be fucking better because of you! My life is fucking ruined and it’s all! Your! Fault!” Tommy cried, fist slamming into the obsidian with every word, blood and sweat and dirt mixing on his skin as he cried to a god who had never loved him, and hated the man who had never truly left him.

He turned towards Dream, eyes dull, the fire that had burned within the teen now gone, leaving behind the scared, lonely kid he had been all along, forced to grow up much too soon, abandoned by the very world that had taken so much from him.

“Fucking fine!” Tommy screamed, storming back towards Dream, stopping in front of the cowering form, “if you’re not gonna fucking admit what you’ve done,

“then hit me.”

Dream blinked, staring up at Tommy with his good eye, confusion and fear mixing together as he watched the trembling teen stand before him.

“What?” Dream asked, eyes widening in shock.

“You heard me,” Tommy spat, spreading his arms out, leaving his chest open as blood dripped from Tommy’s knuckles onto the obsidian, “fucking hit me, please. Just get it over with.”

“I’m not gonna hit you Tommy,” Dream said carefully, staying in his position in the corner.

“Fuck you,” Tommy said, clenching his fists as the blood ran faster, pooling on the ground beneath him, “hit me you fucking pussy.”

“I’m not gonna hit you Tommy.”

“Fucking _hit me!_ ”

“No!”

“Fuck you!” Tommy screamed, dropping to his knees in front of Dream, slamming his fists weakly into the older man’s arms, his sleeves quickly stained red with the blood from his hands.

“This is your fucking fault,” Tommy sobbed, chest heaving as he cried, all of the emotions he had kept bottled up for so long finally breaking free, “it’s all your fault…”

Tommy felt a pair of arms wrap around him hesitantly, and he tensed, waiting for the hit, for the harsh words and the scorn and the disappointment.

He closed his eyes and clenched his fists and waited in silence, because what could he do but accept his fate?

Tommy waited in the cell for the world to strike him down as it had every time before.

But the pain never came.

He wasn’t hit, or mocked, or kicked or tormented or beaten while he’s down. 

Instead, he was pulled closer to Dream, his head resting on his chest as he could feel the man’s arms hold him, loose enough that Tommy could back up at any time, but still comforting without overwhelming him.

Tommy froze in Dream’s arms, fists still pressed against his chest, but just resting there.

Dream was hugging him. _Dream was hugging him._

Dream, who had tormented him relentlessly during exile. Dream, who had nearly driven him to suicide, who had destroyed everything he had worked for without fail, laughing as he did it.

_(Dream, who had laughed with Tommy. Dream, who had listened to him when no one else would. Dream, who had pulled Tommy back from the edge. Dream, who had still been with Tommy when no one else bothered to visit.)_

Tommy hated Dream. He always would, nothing could change that.

Part of Tommy would hate Dream, and the man he had become and the things he had done and the pain he had caused.

But the other part of Tommy, the part that trembled at the feeling of arms around, the part of him that was just so tired, the part of him that wanted to rest, that wanted to be _done_ with this all thought that maybe, he could forgive him with time.

And if he couldn’t forgive him, then maybe he could move on. He could accept what had happened, and grow. He could live and learn and keep on living, not for anyone else, but for himself.

Who was he without his friends? Without his family?

Tommy thinks that maybe he could be himself.

He cries into Dream’s arms, clinging to the man that had led him to this point, who had driven him towards his grief head first without hesitation.

He clings to him, sobbing into the empty cell as Dream held him quietly, rubbing small circles into his back, fingers gripping the fabric of his shirt ever so slightly.

Maybe, Tommy thinks, they can both move on. Maybe they can live and let live and grow from this together.

Maybe all hope isn’t lost, and maybe Dream wasn’t beyond salvation, and maybe they can save each other from the graves they had dug with their own two hands.

They sat there in the cell, alone in the world, misunderstood by everyone but each other, and they mourned the loss of the life they had lived a long time ago.

The cell was silent as Tommy took his first step down the road of recovery.

He knew it would be long, he knew it would be difficult, and awful, and he would have setbacks and stumble and make mistakes.

But looking at the man he hated just a little less now, he thought that maybe, he didn’t have to do it alone.

Maybe, they could put the past behind them, and heal together.

“I’m sorry,” Dream said into the silence of the cell.

And for once, Tommy believed him.

**Author's Note:**

> AFDBJHDFBHJFGBHJFGBHG bruh i speedran writing this so im sorry if it's bad, i got bullied into posting smth 
> 
> i do really think that dream and tommy's characters are interesting, and their dynamic and relationship is something fun to explore and write about
> 
> i hate how dream's character has become the villain and not the antagonist, and if it's like "he has been evil this whole time >:(((" im gonna SCREAM, bc u CANNOT convince me that "it's L'Manberg" Dream was evil from the beginning and i live by that
> 
> n e ways, i hope u enjoyed this afdfhjfghffg it was just a quick little thing i wrote bc i had thoughts 
> 
> if u enjoyed pls consider leaving a comment/kudos bc they make me heart eyes, and if ur interested follow me on instagram @ caydiink where i post art and shit
> 
> thank u all sm for reading, ily guys <333
> 
> have a nice day!


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